


Another Man's Hell

by Geonn



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked, Angst, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Desert Island, F/M, Nudity, Romance, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:25:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen and Nikola are trapped in a paradise, but one thing is missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Man's Hell

She sees him out on the beach sometimes without his shirt, baking in the sun with his head turned toward the sky. Waiting for something. Rescue, perhaps, or maybe to see if there's a chance the stories were true and he might burst into flames after prolonged exposure. After a while he walks back up the path. He doesn't say anything as he passes her. He doesn't mind that she saw him like that. He doesn't mind much these days. The hunger is far too great for him to care.

It would have been nothing less than miraculous in any other situation. Their ship sank, leaving them only one trunk to use as a floatation device. She had nearly frozen to death in the frigid waters and was saved only by him spotting the island and pulling her to shore. He built a fire that night and stayed with her, even though she couldn't gain much body warmth from him. The trunk had contained dry clothes, which was the first miracle. The second was the small stone hut located near the beach.

It's one room, with a table near the door and a large bed in the far corner, under the window. He lets her have the bed and sleeps on the table. Some nights she watches him, well aware that he doesn't need as much sleep as he's been faking. Some nights he touches himself; nights that she showed a particularly gratuitous amount of skin while they were beachcombing. She watches him shamelessly, wondering if he's performing for her benefit. When he's finished she always rolls over without comment and falls asleep.

The second miracle was food. Canned fruits and vegetables in a cellar behind the hut. Whoever stocked it was long dead, but the food was non-perishable. It was what sustained her, but he needed more. He tried at first, screwing his lips in distaste before shoving away the bowl of prunes and stalking back outside.

He decimated the animal population during their first week on the island. Since then he's attempted to make the others last, but they have learned to be frightened of people. The few that remain are harder to catch. He's tried fish, but something in their blood doesn't agree with him. She tries to eat when he's not there, to lessen his discomfort, but he knows. And his hunger only grows stronger.

She promises him every day that someone will find them. It's a hollow lie; he knows as well as she does that they were off-course when the ship sank. Factoring in the length of time they drifted, they could be hundreds of miles outside of the search area. Some days he swims, farther than a human could have gone, and searches for other creatures he can devour. Some days he's gone so long she fears that he's simply done himself in, but he always comes back. It's another week before she realizes why.

He refuses to leave her alone.

She would have laughed at the revelation under other circumstances; how many times has she accused him of that very thing? How often has that irritated her about him? And now he's staying alive so she won't be abandoned. She is touched by his sacrifice, knowing what he must be going through just so she will have someone to keep her company, and it's then that she makes the decision.

They are both wearing clothes from the trunk. She believes his shirt is truly a woman's blouse judging from the space in the chest and the wide collar, but he doesn't seem to mind. She is wearing a nightgown most days, grateful for the thin material whenever there is a breeze. Her modesty was shattered during their first week together, when they inadvertently saw one another naked while bathing. Since then clothing has been a mere formality.

He recoils from the suggestion, but she is firm. There is simply no other alternative. The food on the island will sustain her, but not him. She is strong and fit, whereas he is wasting away. She can see his ribs when he's shirtless, and his stomach has a hollow and painful look to it. His cheeks have grown gaunt. He refuses, but she can see the want in his eyes.

She guides him by the hand to her bed, and she stretches her body out on the blanket. She whispers his name and holds his hand until he lies on top of her. His body is so light that it's as if he'd drawn a blanket up over her. She touches his face and his neck, and she can see the moisture on his lips when he parts them. His eyes are dark, and he gingerly touches her cheek, her jaw, and she inhales sharply as he brushes her neck with soft fingers.

"Gentle," she reminds him.

He nods.

She closes her eyes and turns her head on the pillow, exposing her neck to him. She feels his breath hot on her neck and feels like she's just flashed her breasts at him, lifted her skirts and spread her legs. She is utterly exposed, and her heart pounds. She can all but feel the blood coursing through the veins of her neck as his lips close around it. There's pressure, and then she realizes that he has broken the skin. Her blood is warm on her skin, but it isn't there long. She puts her hands on his hips as he drinks, hooks her thumbs in the waistband of his borrowed trousers, and moans.

She realizes that her legs are spread and he is between them, only the sheer material of her nightgown and his trousers keeping them apart. She blushes at the next realization of his arousal. She whispers for him to stop, gently slapping at his body to let him know that he's had enough, but he sucks harder at the wound on her neck. She finally says his name just as she loses consciousness.

When she wakes, there is a bowl of vegetables sitting on the table for her. She crosses the room, weak, and takes her seat. She eats everything he prepared and feels her strength returning, if only slightly. Afterward when she's strong enough, she walks to the beach. She walks to the edge of the bay, looks into the woods, and then returns to the shack to rest.

Though the island is small, she doesn't see him again for three days.

When he returns, he is weak from hunger. She can tell that he's ashamed by what he did the last time, and even more shamed to be returning. But she guides him back to the bed, where they lay together while he drinks from her again. The wound has almost healed, and she gasps as he breaks it open. His tongue moves over her skin and she drags her fingernails down his sides. This time, she whispers, "Stop, Nikola," and he lifts his head and looks at her.

He licks his lips before he kisses her. She accepts his tongue, tasting the copper of her blood in his mouth. They are undressed quickly, as their borrowed clothing came from much larger people. He slides his hands down her body, mapping her terrain with both hands. She has lost weight in their time on the island, exaggerating the curve of her hips. He kisses her breasts, her navel, and between her legs before he pulls her to him.

He kisses her neck while she guides him into her body. He's throbbing with her blood, a single drink renewing his life. He grabs her hair, he nips at her with his dull human teeth, and she rises and falls in his lap. He moves his mouth to her chest and licks her nipples, resting his cheek against the curve of her chest so he can hear her heart beating as they make love.

He withdraws before he climaxes, and she uses her hand to help him finish. She presses her lips to the tip and he gasps as she drinks from him, her tongue teasing his shaft as his teased her neck. Afterward they lay together on the mattress and his hand strokes her body. She kisses his chest, sucking his nipple as he had sucked hers. She falls asleep like that, in his arms, and wakes the same way.

In the morning they make love again. She lies on her stomach while he covers her body with his. As he slides into her, his lips close over her throat and he drinks again. The combination sends her mind reeling, and she grips the pillow with both hands as her body shudders through an exquisitely powerful orgasm.

They begin to get creative. He drinks from her thigh after making her come with his tongue. He licks her entire body before he finds an appropriate vein to drink from.

She still tries to wait until he's gone to eat. The smell of food nauseates him. But now he spends his time hunting for her. He catches fish and the few remaining creatures that still live on the island, and he presents them to her as trophies. They cook the meals together, she dines, and then they go to bed so that he can have his sustenance.

It's eleven weeks before they see the boat on the horizon. Helen is doing laundry on the beach, the sea up to her bare thighs with their healed scars. The sun has lightened her hair and darkened her skin. She is wearing only her lover's blouse, as she's come to think of it, and the wind is whipping its tails around her waist. The four buttons at the throat are undone to reveal most of her cleavage. Her toes dig into the sand as she watches the boat grow larger in the distance and she turns toward the beach.

He's watching, but he turns his head toward her. They engage in a silent conversation before he turns and walks away up the beach.

When the boat passes the island, a man on deck spots a shirt floating in the water. It rises with the waves, as if breathing, and then drifts away on the current. He looks at the island. It's too far away to tell for certain, but he believes he can see footprints on the sand. He smiles at his own flights of fancy; surely no one could survive this far from civilization.

Six months later, the food has run out. She exists solely on the food that her lover brings her. He feeds her very well, from fish and other sea creatures. He stops hunting, and the creatures on the island begin to breed again. In a year they should have enough food to improve her diet drastically.

At night they make love and he drinks from her.

During the day, he hunts and she recovers. She mends their clothing and stands on the beach, keeping a weather eye on the horizon for signs of another ship.

She knows they'll take the next ship. They will give up the lives they've built here and go back to the real world and all the stress, pain, heartache it entails. It could happen in a day, or a week. It could take a year. It hardly matters to them.

They have all the time in the world, and an entire island to waste it on.


End file.
